


I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings, Do You?

by insaneshadowfangirl



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - Underfell, Caged Bird AU, Cages, Dehumanization, Gen, Imprisonment, Kidnapping, Objectification, Underfell Frisk, Underfell Papyrus, Underfell Sans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-24
Updated: 2016-09-24
Packaged: 2018-08-16 23:48:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8122318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/insaneshadowfangirl/pseuds/insaneshadowfangirl
Summary: It's the party of the year, so of course the Royal Family will attend.
The centerpiece isn't entirely sure what to make of little Princess Frisk, though.
Frisk isn't sure what to make of the skeleton in the cage, either.





	

**Author's Note:**

> The original post of this, complete with a drawing of Sans and Frisk can be found at: http://insanityallegra.tumblr.com/post/150842867840/i-know-why-the-caged-bird-sings-do-you
> 
> I know I wasn't going to write anything for this AU, but this scene won't leave my brian.

The King and Queen stepped into the ballroom, their three children walking in perfect step behind them. Every eye in the party turned to the quintet, arriving fashionably late as always. There was the King, of course, tall and imposing, and the Queen, lovely and regal as always. Prince Asriel the Wise, as primary heir, was on the far left, and on the far right one of the two human children of the Royal Family, Prince Chara the Determined.

 

And in the center of the pair, arms looped around one of each of her elder siblings’, was the jewel of the Royal Family, monsterkind’s darling, Princess Frisk the Kind. Unlike her brothers or adoptive parents, the little human was garbed in clothing far too simple for an event such as this, and yet it suited her far more than any fluffy, elaborate dress and any number of sparkling gems. A simple light blue dress with purple stripes, traditionally showing her youth despite the setting. The only adornment the skirt had was the Delta Rune, signifying her association with House Dreamurr, situated just below her hip. Her mud-colored hair was done up in a messy bun; a pair of large pearl earrings, gloves to match her dress, and a plain blue locket in the shape of a heart completed her ensemble.

 

Sans had, from the few times he’d seen her on television or from a distance, always thought she was cute. Tonight, however, she looked adorable.

 

It was too bad he wasn’t exactly here so he could rub elbows with the elite. Far from it, it fact. His eyelights roamed across the room until they landed on his captor, the lord of the House Gaster, the ball’s host, Papyrus. Or, in his mind alone, the Bastard. The Bastard, who had kidnapped him. Who held him prisoner like some macabre pet. All because he could _sing_.

 

With a scowl, Sans adjusted his _billions_ of layers of skirts as he tried to find _some_ position that didn’t feel a hundred times too hot. He fucking hated having to wear dresses. Being put on display in a giant cage. Being flat-out ignored by most of these wealthy pricks, as though he was little more than the songbird the Bastard claimed he was. Humans, monsters… It didn’t matter. All of them either looked down on him as something beneath their notice, or like an object; A piece of art to be admired, not a captive to be pitied.

 

Well, fuck them.

 

If he hadn’t been specifically forbidden from engaging with the party guests, Sans would happily tell them all exactly what he thought of them.

 

But he wouldn’t, _couldn’t_ risk another ‘punishment’, so soon after the last one. He had to wait for the crack in his skull to heal before he pissing off the Bastard again. Sans was no fool. He knew when to fold, when to obey the rules set out for him.

 

He still could content himself with imagining how this scene would play out if not for the _disgusting_ magic dampener around his neck, bejeweled and decorated like some _sick_ individual’s frankly _evil_ idea of jewelry.

 

He shut his eyes and leaned back against the bars of his cage, doing just that. First he would summon his blasters and _shoot_ all of these snobs in the fucking face, then he’d pin the Bastard down with red magi-

 

“Sit up straight!”

 

Sans snapped to attention at the too-familiar voice, trying and failing to hide his flinch. Trembling eyelights locked onto the tall skeleton and he nodded frantically, hoping against hope that would be the end of it.

 

The Bastard didn’t spare him another glance, simply walking away, and Sans fought back tears. He wouldn’t give the asshole the satisfaction of seeing him cry at being treated like a freaking doll, to be posed as he wished and then left on display. No, crying could wait until the Bastard was asleep and he was alone.

 

He shifted a bit, pulling his knees to his ribcage and resting his gloved hands atop them.

 

The nice thing about the gloves was that he didn’t have to look at the shackles.

 

“Hello.” A soft, musical voice said, and he turned his head in surprise at the small girl walking up to the side of his cage. Princess Frisk had her hands clasped in front of her, and a slightly… concerned…? expression as she watched him. He stared as her, remembering he wasn’t to engage with the guests. He wouldn’t dare speak to the Princess as though he were an equal– And he knew, just _knew_ the Bastard had some kind of listening bug in his cage, because he’d heard the other monster listening to recordings of him singing– for fear of the punishment.

 

This seemed to only increase her concern, however, and she stepped closer, her shoes clicking on the polished floor and her dress swishing around her feet. He stared at the barren floor of his prison, unwilling to meet those big, innocent green eyes. Abruptly he found himself thinking of the bedding he’d been promised if he just cooperated, among many other things. If he just bent to Papyrus’s will, he may actually be able to find some kind of twisted happiness in this life. He’d be well-fed and comfortable, and all it would take was surrendering his dignity.

 

But it wouldn’t be real. It would be a facade, a smokescreen to hide his misery, and deep down he would know that.

 

“You don’t look happy.”

 

Slowly, he raised his eyes and shook his head.

 

The human’s frown deepened. “I’m sorry.” She said, so softly he barely heard it over the cacophony of the ball.

 

He shrugged slightly in response.

 

The girl titled her head, eyeing him for a moment, and then, to his confusion, she pulled her locket over her head. And then she slipped her hand through the bars, and held it out to him.

 

He stared.

 

She smiled. “Take it.”

 

Unwilling to refuse that earnest stare, he took the heart-shaped pendant and slipped it around his own neck, where it came to rest below the blasted magic-dampening collar. The necklace’s weight was somehow more reassuring than anything the little Princess could possibly say, and his smile grew.

 

“It looks good on you.”

 

He found himself smiling in return, albeit only slightly.

 

Frisk’s name was called from a ways away and the human whirled, hurrying off without another word. He could see Prince Chara, waving her over from across the ballroom. But halfway there, she stopped short, turned around, and waved at him.

 

He gave a small, hesitant wave in return.

 

Hopefully the Bastard wouldn’t be _too_ angry about this…


End file.
